One of our favourite places for a Friday or Saturday Night drink was the London Apprentice in Hackney. From our place in Shaftesbury Avenue we just had to jump on the 38 bus and were there in no time, and even the bus journey could prove to be eventful at times.

Our usual attire for the evening was blue jeans (levi 501s or similar, button fly a must), checked shirt with white vest showing underneath , leather jackets and boots. We were the epitome of 1980s clones. It was a look we identified with and felt good when dressed up ready to go out.

On one of the first nights as we were getting ready to go out I noticed something about Tony’s jeans.

“You’ve left the bottom button undone,” I pointed to his fly, thinking he had missed a button.

“I know,” he replied as he tucked his shirt in.

“Oh,” I wondered why. “Why?”

“It’s the available button,” Tony told me laughing.

“Available?” I wanted to check his meaning.

“Yep, is it a problem?” Tony was checking himself in the mirror on the wardrobe door. In our small room/bedsit there wasn’t a lot of room to both get ready at the same time and we were dancing round each other as we did so.

“I don’t know,” I was honest. “So available as in available?” I asked.

“Err… yes,” Tony was putting his jacket on. “I’ll do it up if you want.”

“Well… ” I thought a moment. “I guess I can do the same.” I added.

Tony shrugged. “As long as it’s together, like we said.”

I nodded and left the bottom button of my fly undone too. “Next you’re be telling me that wearing your keys in your pocket like that also means something ,” I joked. I am still amazed that I was ever that naive.